It’s been a hat-trick of wins for Nicholas Brookes’s An Island’s Eleven: A History of Cricket in Sri Lanka in 2023, which, for the first time, tells the glorious story of Sri Lankan cricket, focusing on the characters and the important moments. The book has won the MCC/Cricket Society Book Of The Year award, the Wisden Book Of The Year awards, and the Cricket Book of the Year award in The Sunday Times Sports Book Awards. Brookes, who has lived in Colombo since April 2018, has covered Sri Lankan cricket and its history for international publications including ESPN’s The Cricket Monthly and Wisden’s The Nightwatchman. His latest book An Island’s Eleven: A History of Cricket in Sri Lanka
From Sathasivam to Sangakkara, Murali to Malinga, Sri Lanka can lay claim to some of the world’s most remarkable cricketers – larger-than-life characters who thumbed convention and played the game their own way. Sri Lankan cricket has its own identity. This is the land of pint-sized swashbuckling batsmen, on-the-fly innovators, and contorted cryptic spinners.
The story of the 1996 cricket World Cup is how a team of unfancied amateurs rose from obscurity to the top of the world, with such swagger that they changed the way the game was played. Yet the lore of Sri Lankan cricket stretches back much further. In the early days, matches between colonists and locals imbued cricket with a nationalistic drive. Ashes-bound ships stopping over in Colombo brought the world’s biggest stars, from Bligh and Bradman to Grace and Grimmet. More recently, Sri Lanka has had to face the triumphs and tragedies that come when cash flows freely into the gentleman’s game.
In a conversation with the Sri Lankan Booker Prize winning author Shehan Karunatilaka (The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida), Brookes talked about the book, the ingenuity of Sri Lanka’s players, why and how he thinks Sri Lanka’s cricket team can bounce back, and more. Excerpts from the conversation:
Thank you for this fabulous book, Nicholas. I have gifted it to many people. Can you take me to the genesis of the project? Did you have ties to Sri Lanka before you arrived here? Why choose Sri Lanka and not say, the West Indies, where you have personal connections, or Afghanistan, whose backstory is probably more extraordinary than Sri Lanka’s?
Thanks for the kind words Shehan, they mean a lot.
I guess I should start by saying my first cricketing memories are from the late 1990s and early 2000s – an era when Sri Lanka was such an easy team to love. As a kid, there seemed something larger than life, almost mystical, about the way they played cricket. There was also a big chasm between my childish perception of Sri Lanka’s standing in world cricket, and the reality – that many people still treated them as a small island minnow, despite all they’d achieved. To me, Sri Lanka had always been a vibrant and unmovable part of cricket’s furniture – only as an adult did I discover that their entry into Test cricket was relatively recent and that much of the history prior to that had been patchily recorded and underexplored.
My mum’s half-Jamaican and I’d initially thought of writing about the West Indies, but it’s pretty well-trodden ground – there have been great books by CLR James and Michael Manley, plus the superb documentary Fire in Babylon. By contrast, so little of Sri Lanka’s cricket history had been written down. I was conscious from the start of the project that stories had already been lost, and that if someone didn’t start digging into the past soon, lots more would disappear into the ether.
That said, it would be wrong to pretend that the book was born purely out of altruism. I was totally enchanted by my first trip to Sri Lanka in 2017 – blown away by its incredible natural diversity, its fusion of cultures and its unique character. I was reading Chinaman at the time, which no doubt helped – it so beautifully captures the eccentric soul of Sri Lanka, and does a great job of showing how central cricket is to Lankan culture. I was hooked on the island from my first taste – it was a privilege to be able to spend two years living there, exploring Sri Lanka through the lens of cricket. I spoke to so many fascinating people and made memories which will stay with me forever.
I think Afghan cricket certainly deserves exploring too, although when I started thinking about this book – around 2016/17 – it was still a little early to tell that story. And at that time, Colombo seemed a more appealing prospect than Kabul.
What impresses me aside from the comprehensive research and the engaging storytelling is more than a hundred pages of footnotes and the exhaustive list of interviewees. How much time did you spend researching and immersing yourself in the island’s cricket and culture before putting pen to paper?
I should have probably spent longer researching and immersing myself in Sri Lankan culture before I got going, but I was impatient to start writing – and, equally, overwhelmed by the scale of the project.
I decided pretty early on, once I had a bit of a sweep of the whole history, that the easiest way to manage it was to break the book down into chronological segments, so I’d research a little block and then write it up. I think that stopped me from drowning in a vast sea of information – although it may not have been the most efficient method. I wrote the first chapter about 15 times and ended up with a first draft that was 340,000 words long and totally unpublishable.
I also think the extensive footnotes are a testament to the writers who’ve come before me – without whom I wouldn’t have known where to start.
Who was your most eccentric interviewee and what was your strangest interview?
I think my strangest interview was probably with Ajit de Silva – who many say was the best spinner Sri Lanka produced pre-Murali. A classical left-armer who could get the ball to dip and rip and bounce, and a lovely guy – but everything about the interview was unusual.
Most of the cricket fraternity live in and around Colombo, but Ajit’s home is in Ambalangoda – so I had to catch the train down the coast to go and see him. It was the weekend of the presidential elections – I think Ajit’s involved in local politics – and people kept turning up with forms for him to sign or questions for him to answer.
Ajit and his wife were hugely hospitable – they fed me samosas, buns and rotis, and showed me around their home, pointing out relatives in family pictures. But four decades had passed since Ajit’s Sri Lanka career, and he wasn’t too hot on the finer details. “You might want to check it on Google,” was a common refrain during the interview; although I couldn’t glean too much information from him, we had a great time chatting – and he sent me on my way with a large glass of whiskey, which was also a first.
Why, in your opinion, does Sri Lanka produce so many freakish and unorthodox talents? Is it our lack of an organised coaching system or domestic structure? Is it because cricket is played on unusual surfaces? Or is there something in the water or the curries we consume?
I wonder if it’s a combination of all three. I’ve heard lots of people say that in England or Australia, that kind of unorthodoxy would be “coached out of you” – and I think that also used to be the case in Sri Lanka. I once heard a story about a famous cricketer sending a boy home from practice because he refused to abandon the sweep shot…
But, it seems like Sri Lanka started to really embrace unorthodoxy from the 1980s. I’ve always credited Arjuna Ranatunga – who imbued the team with such a strong sense of national pride and refused to venerate the English in the same way previous generations had done. I think he showed that Sri Lanka could win by playing their own way – which had a massive impact. That said, I’m sure Duleep Mendis was influential too – he was such a unique, elemental batter. When your national captain plays like that, it can’t not filter down.
Of course, some of it has to be tied to circumstance. As players started to emerge more frequently from outside of Colombo – with less access to coaching – more unorthodox talents started to flourish. I’m sure Malinga wouldn’t have bowled the way he did had he not grown up playing on the beach, but coaches deserve credit too for not trying to “fix” players’ idiosyncrasies.
I often think cultural tropes are lazy and not especially accurate – but I’ve always felt there’s something about Sri Lankan ingenuity that has played a part too. I’ve seen so much creative problem-solving in Sri Lanka – across all facets of life – and I wonder if that’s made itself felt in cricket too. Are people just quicker to figure out different ways of doing things; to embrace what works for them?
I don’t know – but it’s clearly a real anomaly that an island of 20 million has arguably spawned more unique, revolutionary cricketers than anywhere else in the world.
Both Sri Lanka and the West Indies have gone from dominating the white ball game for decades to being reduced to the indignity of having to qualify for the World Cup. There are many documented and obvious reasons for this decline. Do you see either side ever reclaiming their place at the top table of world cricket? How do they do it?
It’s sad. But I think Sri Lanka can take a little bit of heart from the West Indies’ “arc”: they fell so far in the late 1990s and 2000s, and then had a bit of a bounce-back – winning T20 World Cups in 2012 and 2016. It’s been a fallow decade for Sri Lanka, but I don’t think a resurgence is totally out of the question.
Franchise cricket draws a lot of criticism, but I feel as though it could offer a ray of hope for Sri Lanka. It’s been so encouraging seeing Mahesh Theekshana and Matheesha Pathirana flourishing at Chennai Super Kings, in Pathirana’s case before he made a mark in international cricket. It’s nice to know those guys are going to find long-term financial security – which playing for Sri Lanka hasn’t necessarily always provided.
I also think their success should encourage more foreign scouts to come to Sri Lanka and search all over the island for diamonds in the rough. That can only be a good thing – having more guys playing franchise cricket from a young age should really benefit the national side. I think the Lanka Premier League is a real boon for Sri Lankan limited-overs cricket too. I was very impressed by the depth of talent and the standard this year – and there’s no doubt the tournament has an air of professionalism which is lacking in club cricket. It can act as a shop window and stepping stone for aspiring international cricketers; I hope it expands in years to come and proves a real springboard for Sri Lanka.
So I think there’s cause for optimism in white-ball cricket. It’s Tests that I’m more worried about. Test cricket feels like less and less of a draw for young players – it just makes more sense for aspiring cricketers to prioritise white-ball skills. I think the ICC, or someone, needs to do more to nurture Test cricket around the world: For me, the game would be a much poorer place if teams like Sri Lanka and West Indies become also-rans in red-ball cricket.
Did you play much cricket while in Sri Lanka or officiate any games? Did you have any memorable experiences on the field? Are you a bowler, a batter or an all-rounder? Or are you, like many of us who write about this silly game, a failed cricketer, living out their lost glories through prose?
I like to think I’m a hard-hitting batter – but in truth I’m a failed cricketer, clinging on to lost dreams by writing about the game. My career in Sri Lanka paints a pretty clear picture. I only played one “proper” match – at the ground in Moratuwa. I was out for a golden duck: I don’t want to throw shade on Sri Lankan umpiring, but it was one of those decisions that sticks with you; an LBW which left a bruise on my hip. Anyhow, the details don’t matter – I left Sri Lanka with a batting average of zero.
Another time, I happened to stumble into a game of garden cricket with Jeevan Mendis. He was bowling, and I was convinced that this was my chance to hit an international cricketer for six – but I was run out before I got to face a ball. It seems like there’s a theme here. Despite my lack of success, I loved the cricket I played in Sri Lanka – and wish I’d played a bit more of it. There’s something so special about joining in on a game of softball – one game in particular, on the ramparts of Galle Fort at sunset, will stay with me forever.
Teaching at St Thomas’ got me into aspects of the game I never foresaw – I umpired some lunchtime games, did a little bit of coaching and even got roped into commentating!
While Sri Lanka hasn’t had a match-fixing scandal on the scale of the Hansie Cronje affair, there have been constant murmurings and conspiracy theories of matches being thrown, most alarmingly of the 2011 World Cup final. Have you found any evidence of this unsavoury underbelly to the game in Sri Lanka?
Like everyone, I’ve heard rumours – but nothing more than that. I was warned off digging too deep into it by a few people – told that doors would start closing in my face if I started asking those kinds of questions. So it wasn’t something I really sought out – it felt slightly separate from the story I wanted to tell and to be totally honest, I was a little worried about the potential danger that might come if I started rattling those cages…
That said, it’s a subject that warrants a lot more scrutiny, and I’ve often thought it would be great to do a follow-up book about corruption and cricket in Sri Lanka. I think I’m a little braver now, a little better placed to ask those difficult questions and a bit less worried about upsetting people.
What are your predictions for the World Cup? Can Sri Lanka make it beyond the knockout stages and will we ever see another 1996 in our lifetime?
For me, the most important thing is that the team builds some cohesion and confidence heading into the World Cup. I really hope that Hasaranga and Chameera can get themselves fit for that tournament – and that the world gets to see Sri Lanka at full strength. I think this team will surprise people: the bowling is just so dynamic, that if the batters can find a bit of form I think they can prove a match for anyone.
Across the board, I reckon the teams are slightly more evenly matched than they were four years ago – Sri Lanka certainly aren’t favourites to qualify for the semis, but if they start strong, you never know. Those first three games, against South Africa, Pakistan and Australia are really crucial. Win two of those, and Sri Lanka might just have the momentum to sneak through. But I’m an eternal optimist and accept it’s a long shot.
Still, I wouldn’t rule out a repeat of 1996 [World Cup win] in our lifetime. I’m really excited about the young core of players in Sri Lanka’s squad. Hasaranga, Asalanka, Theekshana, Nissanka, Pathirana, Wellalage and Madushanka are young enough to play the next three World Cups – if players emerge around them, we could see a really resurgent Sri Lanka in the next few years.
I was also fascinated by how far back your research took you, all the way to the 1700s. How the hell did you find out in such detail about cricket during colonial times?
I have to credit the writers who came before me – without their incredible work, I wouldn’t have known where to begin. Nira Wickramasinghe’s wonderful book Sri Lanka in the Modern Age gave me a great introduction to the social history of the island; while SP Foenander, SS Perera, and Michael Roberts’ writings really shaped my understanding of cricket in the early years. Channa Gunasekara’s autobiography Through the Covers provided an invaluable account of cricket and life in the 1940s and 50s – eventually, I started to build a bit of a picture in my mind.
I loved the investigative aspect of researching the early years – trying to build a picture when all you have is a scorecard and a faded article here or there. Before I started the project, I thought I’d want to glaze over the early history, but I found it totally fascinating. The first section of the book is definitely the part that I feel most proud of.
Everyone has an opinion on the greatest Sri Lankan cricketer of all time, but who in your mind is the most underrated and unsung cricketer to play for the island? Did you find any evidence of the legendary spin bowler Pradeep S Mathew or have his records still been expunged?
Of course, I heard whispers about the great Pradeep Mathew during my research – apparently his “double bounce ball” was twice as deadly as Murali’s doosra – but some dastardly villain seems to have wiped any record of its existence.
But, to me at least, Sri Lanka feels like the land of underrated, unsung cricketers – so it’s so hard to single out just one. I really believe there are so many guys from the pre-Test era who’d be thought of as “world-class” if they’d just had the opportunities. Sathasivam, de Saram, Ievers Gunasekara, Tissera, and Tennekoon are probably top of the list, but far from the only names that spring to mind. Equally, there are a lot of cricketers from more recent times who don’t get the recognition that I feel they should. Arjuna is lionised on the island, but I don’t think he gets the respect he deserves internationally. Tactically, he was so ahead of his time, that he pioneered the “finisher” role in ODI cricket – and I feel like his pugnacity kind of changed the face of Asian cricket. In a sense, it laid the ground for leaders like [Sourav] Ganguly and [Virat] Kohli.
Then there’s Chaminda Vaas, who spent his career in Murali’s shadow but was such a magnificent servant to Sri Lankan cricket – an incredibly hard worker, who thrived for years in conditions where so many seamers have struggled and turned himself into a genuine all-rounder. Likewise, Dilshan’s achievements are often overlooked; probably disregarded a little because he played alongside two colossuses in Sanga and Mahela. But he was such a crucial ingredient in Sri Lanka’s success in the late noughties; a guy who could do everything, and who filled the huge hole left by Jayasuriya’s departure. Plus, you could talk about the DilScoop as a truly groundbreaking moment in the history of cricket – a shot that would eventually change the way everyone played.
What next for Nicholas Brookes? I heard that you may be writing another cricket book about an unlikely cricketing nation. Is this true or are you done with cricket and will you now move on to a ghost story perhaps?
I’m still figuring out what comes next. I’ve got a few projects in mind – some cricket-related, some about other unusual subjects – but I haven’t put pen to paper yet. You know better than me how much writing a book can take out of you. I think maybe you need a bit of recovery time before you can start the process all over again. I’m hoping I’ll be there soon.
2022 Booker Prize winner Shehan Karunatilaka has written a novel about cricket, Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew, and co-wrote the upcoming Muttiah Muralidharan biopic, 800, due for release in October 2023.